


Till the Day

by kifiyathewriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, F/M, Infidelity, Murder Mystery, Not What It Looks Like, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29476902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kifiyathewriter/pseuds/kifiyathewriter
Summary: When Hermione Granger-Weasley is unexpectedly found dead at twenty-four, Draco Malfoy is assigned as lead Auror to unravel the mystery surrounding her case.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Astoria Greengrass/Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23
Collections: Evil Author Musings





	Till the Day

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction, and any/all elements of Harry Potter do not belong to me.  
> WARNING: Please heed the archive warning tagged.

**Till the Day**

**Monday, 24 May 2004**

“We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Hermione Granger-Weasley, beloved wife to Ronald Weasley and daughter of Helen and Richard Granger. Hermione, a first-class Order of Merlin recipient, was a staunch advocate for the rights of the underserved and marginalized populations. She fought valiantly beside her husband and their best friend, Harry Potter, during the Second Wizarding War, a time where so many brave souls were tragically lost.”

“This is such utter shite; Granger would be appalled.” 

“Honestly Draco; don’t be rude.” Astoria chided fidgeting in her seat. He observed his wife’s discomfort, a subtle squint crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You cannot seriously believe that this display is anything short of revolting; why even Potter looks ready to off himself–”

“Draco, must you be so foul? We’re at a funeral for Merlin’s sake.” Draco rolled his eyes in contempt. 

“What does it matter, Stori? We’re seated in the bloody back of the assembly. I’m certain the Potter and Weasel broods can’t hear anything we’re saying.” Astoria set her jaw and stared forward before she graced his rebuttal with a rebuke of her own.

“It’s the principal of the matter, Draco. We’re here to pay our respects.”

“I still don’t see what the point is. It’s not like any of us were close.”

“Don’t you think that being seen here will only further improve our family’s standing–”

“Ahh, there it is...the true motive. You sound just as desperate for attention as Weasley. Perhaps you two should be friends.”

“Oh come off it, Draco. Don’t make as if you don’t have your own reasons for being here. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be in attendance.”

“Maybe I do, but those reasons are none of your concern.”

“I beg your pardon. I. Am. Your. Wife.” She seethed, and Draco watched as splotches of angry red began to mottle her perfect complexion. He arched his brow in wonder. She wasn’t often this easy to rile up, not that he’d tried or really cared.

“We both know this marriage is purely one of obligation; so, don’t play coy with me, Astoria.” She swiftly turned to face him, and Draco watched as her lungs expelled an offended huff of air. The next words from her daggered tongue should have cut him, would have cut him in the past, but he was delighted to find they now had little of the desired effect. 

“Ronald Weasley would have been a much better choice.”

“Is that so? Well, he seems to have an unexpected vacancy to fill, but we both know he’d never satisfy your penchant for galleons.” Draco heard the click of her jaw snapping shut and smirked when she rose gracefully from her seat. 

“Excuse me.” Astoria’s snarled whisper wound around his ears and nipped at his conscience before the click of patent dragonhide leather heels carried her from the room. He feigned embarrassment and looked to the couple seated nearest where he was. Their eyes comically large as he whispered,

“Forgive me for my wife’s rude display.”

For as much as he’d goaded her into their spat, Astoria wasn’t a complete fool in believing he’d had his own motivations. He was nothing if not a Slytherin in nature, and though he’d taken great pains to right many of his past misdeeds, Draco still retained certain traits of his personality. He wasn’t ashamed. His tendency towards self-preservation ensured he maintained constant vigilance. His acute observation skills made him an asset to the team of Aurors he worked with, Harry Potter included. Those skills, among a myriad of others, were what brought him here, to the funeral of one Hermione Granger.

Her death was shrouded in mystery, but then, how could the death of any seemingly healthy twenty-four year old not be considered suspicious. Funny enough, he’d been assigned the massive responsibility by Potter himself after having been the Auror on duty the night she’d been found. Harry was at his wit’s end; a new, sleep-deprived father now weighed down by the heavy cloud of his own grief for the woman who’d been his sister, for all intents and purposes. Not only that but Potter, usually notorious for his irritating and self-sacrificing hero complex, was being eaten alive by the guilt of not foreseeing such a calamity. Draco couldn’t really blame him. He’d been in that same position a few short years ago. Sure, Vince could be a complete tosser, but they’d been friends since childhood. The loss still stung. Perhaps that had swayed him to accept the mantle leading the investigation, or perhaps he had other reasons…

Now, Draco found himself focusing on the room he was seated in and those in attendance. He knew, from extensive training, that guilty parties often situated themselves into a position of visibility during criminal investigations. He knew that he’d likely crossed paths with those responsible for what had happened to Granger. Furthermore, he knew that Ronald Weasley was not an innocent man. To what extent and for what motives, Draco was uncertain, but he would exhaust any and all methods to hold the man accountable.

o0o

Ronald Weasley was cracking under pressure, and he was doing an absolute shite job at hiding his paranoia. Draco could only sit back and enjoy the show. 

For one, the ginger git seemed to be overcompensating by keeping to a strict schedule. Weasley arrived at work five minutes after Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes opened for the day. He left precisely at noon and made his way to the Leaky for whatever lunch special was on offer. At the day’s end, he proceeded home, only to repeat the following day. This may have deterred a more inexperienced Auror, but Draco knew that, if he bid his time, Ronald Weasley would fall apart from his insidious guilt.

He needn’t have bothered with worrying; by the weekend, Weasley slowly deviated from his lackluster plan. First, he became sloppy with his drink, imbibing too much for a typical workday. Most people wouldn’t waste a moment on a detail like that, especially since the man was meant to be mourning the untimely death of his young wife. But, when he began haphazardly taking Granger’s personal effects to the rubbish bin, Draco couldn’t ignore that. In fact, he rescued the items from their fate...for evidence of course. If that wasn’t enough, even more curious was when Ronald Weasley began to make frequent stops at the apothecary he and Astoria owned. Now that...that piqued his interest.

o0o

Draco made his way into the shop through an entrance that was accessible from the deserted alleyway behind their business. Not wanting to make his presence known, he silently approached the doorway leading to the storefront but stopped just short of entering the room. For now, he would listen to what Astoria and Ron were discussing, their frantic whispers reaching his ears.

“What the bloody hell did you sell to me, Greengrass?” Draco heard Weasley snarl through what he assumed were gritted teeth. 

“I beg your pardon, _Mr. Weasley_ , and it’s Malfoy, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”

“Don’t play games with me, Astoria!” The red head’s voice rose along with his temper. “You told me that things would progress gradually. You didn’t tell me that everything would go tits up and she’d drop dead _this_ suddenly!

“I advised you on no such thing, _Mr. Weasley_ ,” Astoria responded, poison lacing her tone. “I provided goods to you and informed you of all warnings that I am legally obligated to do so.”

“Funny, that’s not what you said when we were in bed together.”

“ _Ronald Weasley,_ you will leave this business at once, or I will be forced to alert the proper authorities of your disturbance.”

“So, that’s it? You fuck me, use me and then throw me out with the rubbish? I did this for _you, Stori_ –”

“You did this for yourself, _Ronald_! You couldn’t receive the attention you so desperately desired from your frigid wife and sought someone better in her place. Well, one thing's for certain; I am better, and I don’t need the likes of you to sully my good name. You’ve made your bed and now must suffer the consequences.”

“Don’t delude yourself, Astoria.” Ron spat. “You chose to be a part of this. You and I are a lot alike. Two miserable and lonely people. So, don’t belittle your own intelligence by pretending that you were ignorant of what we were doing. We both knew it was wrong, but we’re the same selfish people we were at the start.” Draco could hear heavy breathing and assumed it was their shared anger being expunged from their polluted lungs. He only hoped they were smart enough to not have this conversation in the presence of other customers.

“Mr. Weasley,” Astoria spoke with barely concealed malice. “I’ll have to ask that you vacate the premises...immediately.” 

Draco didn’t have the opportunity to hear Weasley’s response before he heard the clacking of his wife’s heels. Making haste, he entered his office and sat behind his desk, pretending to rifle through paperwork.

“Draco!” Astoria clutched a hand to her neck. The shock of seeing him evident on her face. No doubt she was curious to know if he’d overheard her conversation. “I didn’t realize you’d be in today.” He looked down at the ledgers, feigning nonchalance before he replied.

“I just had to take a look at these numbers; our inventory seems to be a bit low. It wouldn’t do to have our customers seeking out other suppliers for their needs; would it?” He looked to her in question with a subtle inference to her not so secret indiscretions. She gaped at him, momentarily forgetting herself before schooling her features.

“Will you be home late tonight? I can have the elves prepare that pudding you enjoy, hmm?”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Stori,” Draco smirked. “I’ll be a while; no need for you to wait up.”

“Well, if you’re sure. I’ll be leaving for the day. Owl me if you need anything.”

He watched her depart, making sure he heard the door close and casting a Homenum Revelio for good measure. When he was certain that he was alone, Draco began sorting through his leger until he found a name, Hermione Granger-Weasley. He saw that she routinely purchased contraception potions, which was nothing out of the ordinary. Many witches purchased the same, as the apothecary had developed a reputation for producing quality brews. He chewed the inside of his cheek in thought before he searched for another name. Ronald Weasley.

Aside from regular doses of Sober Up potions, he noticed that Weasley had made routine purchases of Doxycide. Doxycide was common enough to not raise suspicion. The typical demographic of consumers were housewives and commercial cleaning businesses in the Wizarding World. Hell, he’d even had a few muggleborns inform him that the potion worked wonders on bedbugs that infested their muggle establishments. Still, even those customers didn’t have sufficient need to purchase the potion in such frequent doses. Even more curious were the small asterisks beside each notated purchase. To unknowing eyes, the mark may appear inconsequential, but Draco knew better. After all, this was his business, too. The asterisks were an indication that Draco should check his other leger; the leger he and Astoria kept in the event that blackmail was necessary. He’d never professed to be above all of his Slytherin tendencies. This other ledger included names, potions, ingredients, quantities and dates of purchase for any item that had the potential for nefarious usage. Draco thought keeping such information, especially with the knowledge his Auror training afforded, was a smart business practice. One never knew when such information might become useful…

Using a series of complicated wand movements, Draco broke the wards that safeguarded this other leger. He wasted no time sifting through the pages before stopping on the ginger oaf’s name. It appeared that Mr. Weasley wasn’t merely purchasing Doxycide; rather, the Doxycide was a cover for copious amounts of hemlock, an ingredient in the potion. Hemlock on its own was rather fatal, but if one were to dilute the herb they might gradually achieve the same outcome as one fatal dose.

Draco rose abruptly from his desk, donning his robes and grabbing the small book. He placed his wand in the appropriate pocket and visualized his destination before Apparating.

o0o

Draco’s steps were measured as he walked through the bullpen of the DMLE, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention on his route to Potter’s office.

“Draco, mate, I could really use your eyes on this case–”

“Not now, Thomas.” He said, focused on where he was going. Dean was a decent bloke, but Draco had more pressing matters to attend. He continued forward, rounding the corner that brought him to stand directly before the door of Harry Potter, lead Auror of the DMLE. He knocked twice and entered without waiting for an acknowledgment. He wasn’t surprised to see Potter’s disheveled head bent over an open case file. In fact, the other man didn’t even bother looking up at his entrance.

“I take it you’ve found something useful.” The strain in his voice was evidence of the tole the past week had taken.

“Have you slept at all this week?” Draco asked, though he really wasn’t sure why.

“Does it matter?” Harry dragged a hand through his messy hair. “I’m assuming whatever you’ve come across must be important, seeing as you rushed into my office like a raging bull.” 

“You’re right; I’ve had a breakthrough, and we don’t need prying ears.” The blonde answered his superior and turned, closing the door and silencing the office for good measure. “I have to ask a rather sensitive question, Potter. Please, don’t take this the wrong way, but how well do you actually know your friend, Ronald Weasley?”

o0o

After his talk with Potter, Draco didn’t feel much like returning to the manor. Instead, he found himself exiting the doors of the Leaky and walking several blocks of the city to clear his racing thoughts. It wasn’t long before he found himself in front of a familiar building in the muggle part of downtown London.

He climbed up the steps leading to the main level, buzzing himself in with the security code he’d memorized. The pristine marble floor squeaked under the soles of his dragonhide shoes, as he made his way to the elevator. Draco exited on the top level of the building and walked to the door of the flat he rented in secret. Using a key in lieu of magic, he entered the room and let out a breath of relief when saw her sitting there, anxiously waiting.

“Did you find evidence to corroborate our theory?”

“I’ve got it all, Granger. Weasley doesn’t stand a chance of getting away with what he’s done.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This work will (eventually) be three parts and was inspired by the song "No Body, No Crime (Feat. HAIM)" by Taylor Swift.


End file.
